Chapter 6: What Amber Did Next
She came back from the business center forty minutes later.
I was still in the conference room.
Mark was in the chair beside me, his call with Richard finished, his face the color of old paper.
Amber walked in and looked at the two of us sitting together and something shifted behind her eyes — fast, barely visible, like a card being palmed.
"I've spoken to my attorney," she said.
She sat down across from us and set her phone face-down on the table.
"He advises me that the Georgia matter is entirely unrelated to anything here, and that any attempt to connect the two would be considered harassment."
"Your attorney," I said, "is currently under review by the Florida Bar.
Has been for seven months.
Did he mention that?"
Her expression didn't change.
"Eleanor, I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot today."
"You screamed at me in my own lobby and told my staff I was the help."
"I didn't know it was your lobby."
"That's the point, Amber."
She looked at Mark.
"Are you going to say anything?"
Mark looked at the table.
Her jaw tightened.
She turned back to me.
"What do you want?
An apology?
Fine.
I'm sorry for what I said in the lobby.
It was wrong and I shouldn't have said it." The words came out flat and evenly spaced, like items being checked off a list.
"But the petition was filed in good faith, and we are not withdrawing it."
"You're not in a position to withdraw it or maintain it," I said.
"Richard will have it dismissed within the week."
"Perhaps." She leaned forward slightly.
"But dismissal takes time.
And while that process moves forward, you are still a seventy-two-year-old woman running seventeen properties without any family oversight.
That is a fact.
And judges notice facts."
"Amber." Mark's voice was very low.
She ignored him.
"I'm not your enemy, Eleanor.
I'm trying to protect this family's future.
Mark's future.
Your grandchildren's future."
"My grandchildren," I said.
"Tell me about them."
A flicker.
"What?"
"Sophie is nine.
Daniel is seven.
They were not in the car on the drive down.
They are not here at the resort.
Mark told me this morning they were with your mother." I paused.
"But your mother is in Boca Raton.
And she has been accessing a storage unit registered in her maiden name four times in the last six weeks." I watched Amber's face.
"Where are Sophie and Daniel, Amber?"
The room was very still.
"They're with my mother," she said.
"Exactly as Mark told you."
"Then you won't mind if I call them."
"It's nap time."
"Sophie is nine years old."
Amber's hand moved toward her phone on the table.
A small movement.
Reflexive.
Mark saw it.
He reached out and put his hand over hers before she could pick it up.
"Amber," he said.
His voice was different now.
The last of the uncertainty was gone from it.
"Where are my children?"
She looked at him.
For the first time all day, she looked genuinely uncertain — not performing uncertainty, but feeling it.
The plan had not included this version of Mark.
"They're fine," she said.
"That is not what I asked you."
She pulled her hand away from his.
Stood up.
"I need some air."
"Amber—"
But she was already at the door.
She opened it, stepped through, and let it close behind her.
Mark was on his feet before the latch clicked.
He looked at me, and in his face I saw something I had not seen in years — the boy who used to come to my office door at midnight when he couldn't sleep, who would stand in the doorway and say nothing until I looked up and said come in.
"Mom," he said.
May you like
"I need to find my kids."
I was already picking up my phone to call Richard.
